


Black Sheep

by annas



Series: Bobby and John Fics (I'll come up with a better title). [4]
Category: X-Men - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Werewolf, Drabble, Fluff, Hunters, M/M, One Shot, Supernatural Elements, Werewolves, no powers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-16
Updated: 2020-12-16
Packaged: 2021-03-11 01:34:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,481
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28117041
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/annas/pseuds/annas
Summary: John's family has been in the hunting business for decades and they're in town for the annual family hunt. John, however, is going to do everything in his power to sabotage it.Or John is a hunter and Bobby is a werewolf.A short one-shot.
Relationships: John Allerdyce/Bobby Drake
Series: Bobby and John Fics (I'll come up with a better title). [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2020682
Kudos: 4





	Black Sheep

**Author's Note:**

> I take prompts now. Pls, I am very bored.

John shot his first bullet when he was ten years old. His uncle had brought him out right into the middle of the woods; where the trees were so densely packed you had to bring a flashlight to see, even in the day time. He’d kept his hand on John’s shoulder, the stench of stale cigarettes that hung permanently filling John’s nostrils.

“It’s easy.” He’d said, “It comes naturally in our family.”

To the surprise of everyone but John, he’d missed.

See, in John’s opinion, hunting supernatural creatures were inherently wrong. That idea had formed in his head pretty early. Hunting was the Allerdyce family business and it had been for hundreds of years. But considering that John’s family was in fact rather shitty, the lone exception to the rule being his Aunt, John didn’t feel the slightest bit obliged to follow in their footsteps. It was barbaric and archaic, so John subscribed himself to pacifism.

For the most part, John could forget about his bat-shit relatives, living out his mundane days in blissful ignorance. That was until the stupid month of November came around each year. His family travelled all over the country, drifting from state to state in search of prey until they arrived in Westchester county every November for the annual family hunt. John despised the ordeal. He’d flat out refused to go the first few years, which resulted in him being almost cut off from the clan, not that John could bring himself to care. That was until he realised he could do far more good joining them than staying locked up in his room. If the Allerdyce’s were going to hunt in his town, he was determined he was going to ruin it for them.

Pushing his meatloaf around his plate, John ran over his scheme in his mind. He’d already planned to hide the artillery and bring a Bluetooth speaker loud enough to scare off every animal within a ten-mile radius. But those steps weren’t enough, he needed to be in the middle of the action. Looking up from his lunch, John turned back to the conversation currently at play. He was sitting on a lunch table with Kitty, Rogue and Bobby, the buzz of the cafeteria providing a backdrop to whatever they were discussing.

“Bobby? What about you?” Kitty questioned. He’d clearly missed some arrangement of plans. He normally participated in these conversations a little more - he wasn’t a complete loner. With the hunt tonight, however, seeing a movie or whatever the plan was far beyond his immediate concerns.

“What’s this?” John asked, earning an eye roll from Kitty.

“What is with you two?” Kitty scolded, her glance moving from John to Bobby, “It’s like talking to two brick walls.”

He’d been far too wrapped up with his problems to notice Bobby’s withdrawal from the conversation. It was one of the few times, in fact, he’d been able to distract himself from staring at Bobby.

“Me and Rogue wanna go see a movie tonight.” Kitty continued. Bingo, John thought. “You wanna come?”

“I can’t sorry.” Bobby said quickly, his blue eyes wide and apologetic, “I have a family dinner thing.”

Damn it, John thought. That was his excuse.

“Uhhh, I can’t either.” John drawled, struggling to come up with a realistic sounding excuse, “I also have a family dinner.”

Kitty scoffed. Folding her arms, she looked down her nose at him. 

“That sound’s fake.” She said, dismissively.

John groaned.

“I promise you it’s not. My stupid relatives are coming from out of state. I’d much rather go to the movies.” He said, sincerely.

Tuning out of the conversation once more, John turned his attention to Bobby. He looked pretty normal to the naked eye, but John knew better than that. His brow was ever so slightly furrowed and he stared down at the table, his expression dull. Strange, John thought. It was a full moon. Maybe it did really affect peoples moods.

John couldn't remember a time that he hadn't been crushing on Bobby. They'd grown up together and they'd been inseparable right up until high school. In recent years, John couldn't help but feel Bobby had drawn away from him, no longer sharing his secrets with John the way they had done when they were small. 

Sitting in his car later that evening, John leaned back triumphantly, thoroughly satisfied with his progress as of yet. The bullet snatching and speaker plan had pulled through seamlessly. He’d even managed to find the time to blunt all of his cousin's arrows and ‘accidentally’ pour a bottle of mountain dew over the old parchment maps of the forest.

Deciding to take a stroll around the woods, in quest of more opportunities for sabotage, John slid from his vehicle and out into the night. He’d brought a torch with him, partially to find his way around and partially to prevent any of his shit-for-brains relatives mistaking him as a werewolf. They’d made that mistake once, shooting him with an arrow a couple of years ago. Assholes.

He navigated his way carefully, making sure to walk directly East so he could find the way back to the car. He had to admit, these woods actually were pretty spooky. Stretching out for dozens or so miles, it would be pretty easy to lose your way in here. Maybe he’d get lucky and one of his uncles wouldn’t find his way out again. Passing some kind of old stone outhouse, John flashed his torch inside to see if anyone was inside and was relieved to find it empty. He kept moving onwards, coming to a stop at a small area devoid of trees. Gazing upwards, he took in the twinkling night sky above him. It really was kind of beautiful.

At the sound of a peculiar noise, however, John gaze shot back down to his surroundings. The hairs on the back of his neck leapt to attention and he straightened his back as he peered through the darkness. Keeping completely to a still, John waited, searching for any sign of life. Then, just as he thought he might turn back around, a low-pitched wine cut through the quiet of the clearing.

Turning on his heel, John moved forward delicately, the light of his torch illuminating the space in front of him. Much to John distress, as he took a final step forward, his torch lit up the exact last thing he’d wanted to see.

“Damn it.” John cursed.

Just a meter or so in front of him sat a silver-grey wolf, or werewolf should say. Now John was no idiot. He knew better than to be afraid of werewolves, anyone who’d done more than five minutes of research would know they were some of the least dangerous creatures out there. What did concern John, was the matting of ripe blood in the creatures soft fur and the long, thin arrow jutting out from its side.

“Crap.” John cursed again, trying very hard to calm his thoughts. The wound didn’t look too deep, but he had to get the arrow out soon. Hunters were known to dip their arrows in poison and there was no way to know if this was the case until it was too late.

“I’m going to help you!” John said, reassuringly, pulling his bag from over his shoulder. Biting his lip, he forced down any more unsavoury words for his relatives. Those stupid, stupid assholes.

The wolf, meanwhile, stared up at him in fear. Keeping its body low to the ground, it growled nervously, tail thumping the earth. 

“I’m sorry they did this to you,” He continued, grabbing the first aid kit from out of the backpack. He’d actually brought this thing for his self, in case the prior year's events repeated themselves. The wolf continued to stare at him, a chorus of pained wines mixing with John’s heavy breathing. The poor thing was clearly in a great deal of pain, barely able to move from where it lay.

“I’m not going to hurt you.” He said, taking out a bottle of ointment and cloth. “I have to get this out of you though, I”m sorry. They put poison the arrows sometimes.”

At that, the wolf grumbled even louder than before. He presumed the wolf could understand him well, but this was an incredibly bizarre conversation to be having. Then again, he was a teenager on a werewolf hunt, so that comment was probably obsolete in the context.

“Shh”, He whispered, “I don’t want anybody to hear us.”

Crawling over to the animal's side, John shone his torch upon the wound. To his relief, the thing looked pretty shallow, only digging just below the surface.

“Okay, it doesn’t look too deep.” He said, “I’m gonna pull it out on three okay?”

The wolf didn’t make a sound, merely blinking up at John with cool blue eyes. It was how you could tell the difference between a werewolf and a regular wolf. A werewolf’s eyes were astonishingly human. He'd only seen a couple before, but each time, he'd been astounded by the magnificent creatures. 

“Okay, I’m gonna take that as a yes. Three, two, one.”

Once the arrow was removed and discarded, John cleaned the wound carefully, carefully inspecting it for splinters.

“Okay.” He smiled triumphantly, “You’re good to go. I really am sorry.”

The wolf hauled itself to its feet. As it did so, it trembled slightly, it's movements heavy and lethargic. 

“You don’t look good. Okay, I have a plan. I found an outhouse a minute or so back. I can stay with you until morning. You won’t be able to fend anyone off like this.” He whispered, the words tumbling out of his mouth at an astonishing pace. Something about those eyes had him completely unravelled. They were so clear and conveyed every ounce of vulnerability inside of the creature.

Once John had led the wolf into the shelter, he grabbed a sweater from his backpack and lay it out on the floor in the corner furthest away from the door, gesturing for the wolf to lie down. Obediently, the wolf obliged, settling itself in the corner with a heavy thud. John wondered why the wolf trusted him.

John positioned himself on the stone, back pressed against the door to prevent anyone coming in. Shaking out the contents of the bag, an assortment of items tumbled to the floor, including pepper spray, a pair of gym shorts, a bottle of water and a few candy bars.

“For when you wake up.” He explained, pushing the latter three items across the floor and positioning the mace beside him, "Sorry I don't have anything better, I didn't really anticipate this." 

The wolf batted its eyes at John, each movement heavy and more tired than the last. It was quite a mild night for November, which John couldn’t more thankful for. It was certainly chilly, but that was much preferable to waking up with frost on his eyelashes.

“You can sleep now.” John said kindly, letting his head rest back against the wood, “You’re safe here, I promise.”

John wasn’t sure when he himself fell asleep. It was certainly after the creature across him had, breathing softy and heavily. He spent the rest of his time awake, thinking of ways as to ruin his relations lives. Maybe the ATF would receive an anonymous tip-off tomorrow morning. Who knew?

Once he had given into the heaviness of his body, his dreams were exhausted by thoughts of cool blue eyes and silver fur.

The first thing John was aware of, as he returned to consciousness, was the weight of something soft draped over his shoulders. Peering down, John squinted at the sight of his sweatshirt. Weird, he didn’t remember placing it there.

“Good morning.”

At the sound of the familiar voice, just cursed, the totality of last nights events racing through his mind. Whipping his head to the source of the sound, John felt his mouth fall open at the sight greeting him.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” John exclaimed, still stuck in an absolute state of disbelief.

For sitting across from him, a small smile creeping across his face was none other than Bobby.

“Surprise.” Bobby grinned, nervously. Well, he certainly hadn’t predicted that.

“You.” John managed, shaking his head in utter astonishment. His mind was racing so fast that his mouth couldn't possibly keep up. 

“Me,” Bobby responded. His hand was held carefully over his side, just where the arrow must have punctured skin. Thankfully, he’d already found the time to put on the gym shorts John had given him.

“You’re the werewolf,” John stated dumbly, a smile starting to push away his shock. Sliding the sweater off of his shoulders, John passed it back over to Bobby, “You must be freezing.”

“I’m fine really.” Bobby insisted, taking it from John nonetheless, ’Thanks to you. Thank you, you seriously saved my ass.”

It suddenly all made perfect sense. Bobby’s withdrawal over the last few years, his bad mood, all on top of how familiar the wolf’s eyes had been. He’d knew he recognised them from somewhere.

"I didn't do a good enough job. You got shot by a freakin' arrow." John dismissed, shuffling over to Bobby. Squinting at Bobby's exposed side, he moved Bobby's hand aside. "Does it hurt still?" 

Bobby winced. 

"A little. I've had less painful injuries I gotta admit." He shrugged, clearly trying to play it down, "Anyway, what the hell were you doing out here?"

As John cleaned the wound again, he recounted his family's history. Bobby listened intently, likely anchoring himself to John's voice to ignore how much pain he was in. 

"You know John, that is pretty fucked up. You make my life sound vanilla." Bobby said finally, raising himself off the floor shakily, but far more steadily than before. 

"Get lost." John laughed, shaking his head, "You owe me a big explanation." 

Once they'd made it back to the car, Bobby leaning on John as they walked, Bobby stopped. 

"I'm sorry I didn't tell you about all this." He said with a sigh, "I wish I'd know you were involved in this too. Would have made things a lot easier." 

John snorted. 

"What, you're telling me if you'd known my family were hunters you'd have told me that you were a werewolf?" 

Bobby thought for a moment, folding his arms.

"Yeah, I think you've got a point." He relented, "Anyway, I should probably get back home, let my mom know I'm not dead. But I owe you that explanation and a lot more. You wanna hang out tonight?" 

Something inside of John's stomach leapt and he smiled down at the steering wheel, pushing the blush down from his cheeks. 

"I think I can do that." John grinned, placing the keys in the ignition and revving the engine to life. 


End file.
